The bright sun cast its warm, late August rays upon the steep lands below, reflecting its light upon the shimmering surface of the waters cascading into slim waterfalls. The wind blew softly, gently caressing the scarce grass that had escaped the reign of the sharp, slippery rocks. The crisp white Crimson Dreamer sat somewhere near the side of one of the waterfall's base, staring at her reflection upon the agitated water below. Golden eyes looked back at her indescribably, with an expression bordering dejectedness and acceptance. The colour of her pelt stood out against her surroundings, as well as against the green-blue hues of the reservoir's contents. A resigned sigh escaped the pale femme, testimony to countless nights lost in the realm of the same thoughts she accompanied now. Her heart and mind were inconsolable, and her body was weak with anguish and the crushing hopelessness of waiting. A small, secret part of her knew that no matter how much time she would spend in Crimson Dreams, or anywhere else for that matter, without the smallest clue as to his well-being, there was nothing to be accomplished but a lingering sense of despair.

     
The fair female reclined to her haunches, keeping her gaze fixed on her reflection. She wondered what she looked like, to her pack mates, to any other wolf that lay eyes upon her. She clearly remembered how, even in her deepest rage, she had still seemed frail and weak in front of the Dahlian wolf she had crossed paths with. How much more vulnerable, then, did she look now, when she was at her lowest low? The thought amplified in magnitude in her mind, and she peered more closely at her reflection, not an ounce of vanity making its presence felt. Her amber orbs could only see the white she-wolf they had become accustomed to seeing, by now, whenever faced with a mirrored image. Physically, she hadn't changed at all, almost; her pelt was still rich and well-groomed, her eyes still held curiosity, her legs and build were as lean and slender as they'd always been. She was by no means thinner than when she had come back to Crimson Dreams-- had probably gained a couple of pounds, even. Her heart was set on finding what made her look as desolate as she felt, but her eyes could see nothing. The alabaster femme turned away from the edge of the water and curled up next to a tree not far away, her head on her paws. Warm tears slowly began their descent down her muzzle, leaving damp trails on her fur. Where are you, that I cannot follow?

     
The light flicked through the crowns of the trees and bounced upon the surface of the reservoir's contents, glazing the rippled surface of the water, forever disturbed by the rhythmic inflow of water provided by the tireless waterfall. Against the cadenced melody of the heavy structure molded in earth and solid stone, through which the blood of the planet cascaded into deep pits set in the dense crag, the ivory female's tears seemed a simple raindrop in the ocean. Her golden gaze followed the intricate paths the steady flow of water had weaved into the sturdy ore, allowing as much time as needed to take in the subtle change of direction nature had relied on in the face of obstacles too hefty to overcome. Something in the slow, steady-paced advancing of the water as it followed its settled course towards the inevitable plunge calmed the fair femme, like a soft lullaby from times and lands that were now further from her than she would have ever thought possible.

     
Enthralled by the parallels she could easily draw between her current emotional state and the spot she had picked for a bit of undisturbed musing, the pale Crimson Dreamer didn't even pick up the scent of an approaching wolf. Later on, as she would look at the wolf, she would think that his smell had evaded her due to its poignant familiarity. As it stood, however, his voice startled her a bit, and only then did she realize that her tears had still remained upon the air, easy for the ebony male to pick up. Her voice came off as if from far away, lost as she had been to the wondrous scenery opening before her "You seem familiar, though I'm sure I've never met you before. But something about you... " she trailed off vaguely, delicately perusing her memories for one that might offer a clue as to the male's identity. And then it came to her-- the afternoon in which she had confined herself to the shadows, leaving Naniko and Savina and Pilot to explain to the small gathering what their plan was about, all the while watching the latter with affectionate gratitude. This wolf had been there. He had been one of the few that had helped start their new home. Her smile portrayed with great efficiency her realization of this fact, and her tone was light and melodic as she next spoke, "You were one of the first Crimson Dreamers, were you not?" You remind me of a life I feel separated from, the white she-wolf thought with a touch of renewed sadness. Her bitterness flashed for a second in her amber gaze, but that was as much as she let on. There was nothing that could stop her from integrating this wolf in her life now, albeit late. Realizing she had yet to respond to his offer, she continued softly, "Thank you, but I don't think there is anything anyone can do. I've... lost something, and unless you knew where I might find it, I doubt there is much to talk about on the subject." Her voice had been warm and calm, trying to convince the wolf of the thought that was behind her words. "I am Urma, by the way. I doubt you will remember me from the older times, for I have been gone a good while now, in search of that which has been taken from me."

     
The soft breeze gently caressed her ivory pelt, like the touch of a distant lover, a faint recognition of her loneliness, seemingly attempting to soothe her anguish. She relished the apparent intimate implications of the feeling of the slow wind through her fur, delicate and impressive at the same time. It was as if, in the absence of a relationship, she had made one with the motions of the air-- a simple, generous offer for a bit of comfort. Doubled by the steady rhythm of the water as it gathered momentum for its inevitable plunge, the touch of the autumn breeze felt insatiably enjoyable to the white she-wolf. The farrago of actions relaxed the white Crimson Dreamer; it spoke of amenity and the fair femme couldn't suppress a feeling of deep gratitude. She had long since misplaced this feeling of contentment which flowed through her now, so unlike the sadness that glazed her golden eyes every once in a while, reminding of a deep-rooted sadness, no longer different to an indisputable certainty.

     
Once the obsidian male began talking, her ears pricked in attention to what he was saying. Just as sympathy made itself felt within her, the names the wolf spoke of sent a chill down her spine. Dierdre and Pilot-- for all the wolves that had once known them as a couple, they had stayed as such overtime. Her mate. The pale femme thought just how unfair that sounded, after so much time; that she-wolf would forever be tied to Pilot, which only she thought of, against all odds, as hers. However, she didn't want to think of these things. Her disappointments had been many, and they would continue to silently flourish so long as he was gone, a solid absence in her life. Her thoughts would endlessly search for him, her words in the night would beckon him with the stories upon the wind, and one day, maybe, she would meet him once more and somehow, through the gap time would have certainly caused by then, they would fall in love again. The pearl female forced her musings to return to the ebony Crimson Dreamer before her.

     
"Our disappointments may vary, but fundamentally and unwillingly, their roots remain the same. It is Pilot whom I have lost." There was a sense of closure, almost, in her simple words, of hopes too old to matter. But the expectations were still high, her beliefs fresh. She could see the reason behind his statement, and felt in agreement with it. It was just that... she had never been sure whether Pilot had forgotten her or not. When a mate or a lover leaves and is lost to you of his or her own accord, you are, in a way, allowed to move on. But she could not know whether Pilot wouldn't want to come back, once he felt he could see her and explain everything to her, calmly, reasonably. A small sigh escaped the alabaster femme. "I never knew he had an adopted son. We never talked much about his old life. It was what he was trying to leave behind, at least the image of Dierdre was what he wanted to forget. I'm sorry if he ever caused you sadness or disillusionment. I know it's not my place, but he was a good wolf. I'm sure he's very proud of you, even if he knows that maybe he didn't contribute to your upbringing as much as he could have." She didn't know why she wanted to defend the one wolf that had disappointed her. But somehow she felt obliged to. He had helped her. You never forget someone who does, not really.

     
The pearl femme registered the ebony male's response to her words and something deep within her cracked. She hadn't realized how her words would sound to Dierdre's adopted son. Indeed, to Jazper, Pilot's ex-mate would be a timeless image, an immortal wolf who had cared for him and looked after him with all her love. Sure enough, the ivory Crimson Dreamer would, at the most, seem an intruder. Maybe he would even blame her, in his mind, for Pilot and Dierdre's relationship's shortcomings. Still, she did not feel like she owed the male an explanation. She did not feel bad about loving Pilot; more so, she considered the feeling to be one of the best things that had ever happened to her, despite the situation it currently put her in. Dierdre might have been a good mother, a caring keeper for her pups-- but she had not been a good lover. Urma knew this from Naniko herself. Naniko had told her that Dierdre had not been completely faithful to her mate-- or that was what she had understood from her friend's words. Suddenly, Jazper's reaction seemed unfounded, unfair even. Maybe Dierdre deserved to be respected in a lot of aspects-- but no one could blame Pilot from wanting to forget her. And, this being a rare occasion in Urma's case, she felt that she was as good as Dierdre ever had been, maybe better. It was cruel enough that Pilot had been taken away from her and never from his ex-mate, who had probably not even cared about his feelings in the end. Jazper's reaction brought a sense of injustice to the blanched female; but she did not take it further than that. She realized that mentioning anything of the sort would gain her nothing in the obsidian male's eyes, so she let it pass with an inaudible sigh and a deep, looming silence.

     
The alabaster she-wolf wondered whether the dark Crimson Dreamer's words were truly from the heart, or just said from a sympathetic urge to offer her what she wanted to hear. If indeed his sympathies lay with his adoptive mother, she could not rightfully blame him-- to him, she was nothing more than his adoptive father's potential love interest. Nothing bonded them or brought them together in the slightest. However, the crisp white femme decided to respond as neutrally as possible, without reading too much into the roots of the male's words. "I don't know if I could call it 'losing'. That would imply that I would at least know something of what has become of him. I would call it more likely a 'misplacing'. He is nowhere that I know of, though I have spent many months trying to find him. I'm sorry to hear you know how it is to misplace, or, as it were, to lose someone. It is not a feeling I would wish on anyone." Her words came straight from the heart. Although she did not know what unhappiness had sought out the ebony wolf, she truly did not find any sense of accomplishment in his former tragedies. It was a horrible thing, losing a loved one. She had seen that for herself on two occasions and if, after the loss of her half-brother and then-mate she had found Pilot to help her through, now she knew that same chance would not be on her side once more. Her patience was wearing thin, slowly replaced by a tormenting anguish, a deep depression. She had never been one to cope with loneliness.

     
The pale she-wolf watched with tired eyes the male before her, trying to assess whether or not she was having an honest conversation. She let the thought roll through her weary mind for a while, before tossing it aside as fruitless. It was quite clear that their contradictory feelings about Dierdre and, consequently, Pilot, would yield no common ground for conversation. She could not claim to know anything about his former life, nor could she fathom what feelings being adopted would entail. On the other hand, neither could the black wolf know of her own past experiences, nor how those influenced the way she now reacted to abandonment. In a sense, their dialogue held nothing that could convince either of them to waver, and there was nothing that could be felt for the other so as to consider the option of compromise. Why should this wolf in particular care about the way she felt in regards to Pilot’s absence-- simply because they were pack mates? Surely that made no difference to him, especially since she hadn’t returned for a significant amount of time or even been overly social at that.

     
The alabaster Crimson Dreamer let the lingering aftertaste of an imminent disagreement and potential argument die down into the silence that had settled and it was only a few moments before she decided it was safe to break it that he spoke first. Her ears pricked instinctively with curiosity, and she let the words settle for a moment with her before allotting herself the necessary time to answer. She needed this time so as to be able to brush over the apparent rudeness she was left with after him saying in what seemed far too casual, even for a stranger, about Pilot’s return. The pearl femme wasn’t as naive as to think that anyone and everyone could, or would, care about her worries and her fears. She didn’t expect compassion; she was simply content with finding it in her friends. But no stranger until now had acted as if her small tragedy were a personal offence. Who was she offending, exactly? Surely not the obsidian wolf, or his memory of Dierdre, or at least she hoped so, since that hadn’t been her intention in the least. The blanched female finally decided against answering his first statement, and merely listened to his question, her attention no longer peaked and his company no longer necessarily irreplaceable.

     
“My friends have been more than nice with me, thank you. I don’t feel as if I am not given as much as everyone else in the pack, or treated differently in any way. I have all I need, and if I don’t, it’s always somewhere that I can procure it for myself with minimum effort.” She stopped herself from mentioning anything about Pilot’s absence, knowing that this subject did not interest the wolf, despite having been, at least at some remote point in time, the white male’s adopted son. She nodded her head a bit in response to his other inquiry. “Yes, thank you. I was happy to find my former den in the exact place and condition I left it in.” These questions irritated her slightly. So who was he, the groundskeeper or something? She felt that if her emotional turmoil proved of little worth to him, her welfare should be no different. She really hadn’t expected much. She hadn’t even wanted to talk about Pilot. She would have simply liked to know that the empathy Jazper had initially offered was warm-hearted.